Time stops for Egypt.
Lives stop for Egypt.
The world stops spinning for Egypt.
We all stand frozen, arms outstretched, faces flattened against an invisible barrier, all looking inwards to Egypt, every sense focused on it in its lonely time warp.
Sometimes, Egypt seems to move so slowly that our eyes twitch as they stress to detect the slightest movement.
Others, Egypt spins faster and faster and faster and faster until it reaches a dizzying speed and our eyes see no more than a continuous streak of blinding light. Then, with little warning, the Egyptian time warp explodes and we are hurled away, slowly, stunned by the high-intensity time waves, into a temporary oblivion.
But most times we watch with confusion, fascinated nonetheless, as Egypt yawns and stretches, jokes and laughs, boils and broils, hates and loves, gives life and taketh it away.
Time stops for Egypt. Lives stop for Egypt. The world stops spinning for Egypt. And Egypt, alone in its time warp, moves, at once slowly, then rapidly, then almost normally. Almost. Always almost.